


Isolation isn't an option (you always find your way back)

by bobleak



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Soul Punk Era (Fall Out Boy)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 10:18:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19196836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobleak/pseuds/bobleak
Summary: Pete rocks up at a soul punk show and Patrick puts him back together again. Some things never change even when everything's changed.





	Isolation isn't an option (you always find your way back)

"You look so good like this."

He knows who it is without turning around. It's not surprising. He's heard that voice a million different times and a million different ways over the years, he wasn't prepared for it tonight, here of all places.

"Why are you here?" 

It comes out harsher than he meant it. He really did just wonder why in the fuck Pete was in ARIZONA of all places. He played an LA show LAST WEEK.  
Sure, Pete was never predictable but this is ridiculous.

"I knew you'd be great Patrick but fuck you're amazing." 

On that note Patrick turns around and Pete looks ,well, he's looked better. He's still stunning. Of course he is, he always will be but Patrick knows Pete down to his bones and this is not Pete healthy and Patrick already knows why he's here.

"You're breaking down." 

He needs to engage his brain before he speaks he hasn't even greeted him yet.

Pete let's out a ghost of a laugh. It's so hollow and Patrick wants to fix it. Wants to fix him the way he always has. He knows it isn't that simple, knows he can't just wave a magic wand and fix him, fix them but God he'd give everything up if he could the music, the fame, the money it all pales in comparison.

Can they hug? Is that still okay? They haven't been apart this long in their adult lives and everything feels oddly at bay.

"Can we just celebrate you being the most talented person I know for a little while."

Patrick's self control snaps and he pulls him into a hug.

"You can tone down the compliments." 

The happiness coats his voice. It wasn't intentional but he can't bring himself to regret it when Pete relaxes into the embrace.

They're still them it's all good, it's all gonna be ok.

10 minutes later a closed door between them and the rest of the world and whiskey freshly poured Patrick tries again.

"You could always head out with us you know." 

Pete smiles that slow, not quite sad smile that Patrick swears will be the death of him.

"Not a chance. You deserve to be the only thing anybody looks at on that stage"

"There's a whole ass band..." 

Pete rests his hand on Patrick's arm effectively cutting him off mid sentence

"You deserve this." 

It's so ernest, so open, so them that Patrick doesn't even notice he's leaned in to kiss him until their lips touch it's brief, gentle, barely even there, so why does it feel like the world, their world is on a knife edge now?

The question is answered when Pete pulls him forward by his shirt collar and kisses him again. 

It's needy and desperate and Pete's practically in his lap when they eventually pull apart.  
Patrick can feel his thoughts but he can't read them. It's like they're stuck half way to his mouth.

"We...we said..."

"We wouldn't. I know and I don't...your just here and, fuck, I'm sorry I should've... I can go."

"Shut up Pete."

There's nothing harsh in the words. They're less of a telling off and more of an invitation.

Pete doesn't move from where he's sat, half in Patrick's lap and half on the sofa. It can't be comfortable but he doesn't seem to mind.

"Have you eaten today?"

"You're not my baby sitter "

" I already have a full time job I don't need another"

It's all so easy to fall back into gentle bickering, the hint of something between them shoved to the side for the comfort of safe companionship, but Pete didn't just happen to be here. Patrick is happy to see the guy but he's not stupid.

"Talk me through what your heads doing." 

Pete ignores him in favour of running his hand up and down his shirt sleeve. It should be gross. He hasn't had a chance to wash yet and it was drenched in sweat not a half hour ago. He won't force an answer out of Pete. It wouldn't work if he tried, so he has a sip of the whiskey, the burn oddly sobering. He doesn't miss the way Pete's eyes follow the movement of his arm. 

"Why Arizona?" Pete shrugged.

"Felt like getting out of LA. If I go Chicago my mum will worry, I knew you'd be here." 

Patrick sighs, pulling Pete fully into his lap. It's a position they've been in countless times before in wildly varying levels of personal hygiene so it shouldn't shock him when Pete rests his head on his shoulder, but it still does. Patrick puts down his glass as lightly as he can.

"We should head to my hotel and shower."

"How do you know I don't have a hotel?"

"Because you decided to come here on a whim this afternoon."

"Stop reading my mind Stump, it's bordering on creepy."

"Alright mr- fires off ridiculous compliments before saying hello-."

"Those compliments were fully justified and as one of your oldest fans I felt you needed to know." 

Patrick rolled his eyes. This is a practiced routine. Before standing.

"C'mon I'm getting us a cab."

It's 3am before Pete cries on him and 6am before he falls asleep, Patrick curled around him. He can't make it better but in some dream world he can piece him together with his bare hands, hold the pieces in place, fix every last crack left there and everything can be good again.

Pete is already up when Patrick wakes a few hours later. 

"When do you need to head off?"

"You know damn well that was the last tour date, I can stick around as long as need be."

He doesn't say as long as you need me but Pete knows what he's saying. The words aren't needed.

"It's been almost a year without you. I won't drop dead if you need to get home."

Patrick shrugs.

"Put the TV on Pete."

"Where's the remote?"

"There is no remote."

"It's 2011 there must be a remote!" 

Patrick definitely doesn't miss how close Pete was when he stands up to turn the set on, and if Pete sees him pull the duvet further around himself well, he doesn't say anything.

Only one channel works and it's showing Tom and Jerry reruns but he supposes it could be worse.

It's well into the afternoon before Pete breaks the friendly silence with something that isn't a bad joke.

"I'm sorry for kissing you last night."

"Pretty sure I started it so, dumb on my part, I'm sorry."

"Patrick." 

Pete's been trying to master a stern voice to use at Patrick since they met and not once had it worked.

"Pete, it was never my idea to stop."

"They'd have found out." 

The fear tinting his words has the same clarity it had six years ago. It doesn't hurt less, but it's a different hurt; less anger, frustration,why me and more; how can you not know by now? why can't I mend this? I need you whole. So he's protective for selfish reasons, sue him.

Patrick doesn't know what possesses him to grab Pete and pin him to the bed. His impulses have historically gotten the better of him but this is certainly a new one.

He can feel Pete's breathing. They're so close, so god damn close and why has nothing changed? Pete's thirty fucking one now, weren't they supposed to grow out of his fucking teenage fling.

"You're so fucking bad at talking, Wentz"

"You're still listening aren't you?" 

There's so many responses on the tip of his tongue. It's not like I didn't try to stop, you came to my show asshole, it's been a decade if anybody can insult you it's me.

Apparently his lizard brain is in control today though as he leans down to kiss his stupid fucking ex band mate who he should probably show the door for both their sakes, but he knows he never could.

It's not a gentle peck like the night before. It's desperation, it's over a year of no updates beyond twitter notifications at 3am, it's how fucking dare you leave me and god we tried we tried all rolled into one. 

Pete bites at his bottom lip and if Patrick had any thread of self control left it surely flew out the window. He drops his grip on Pete's arms in favour of getting closer and Pete winds his hands into the stupid tshirt Patrick slept in and curls his tongue into Patrick's mouth. It's a practiced dance but always unfamiliar somehow.

Patrick moves away, sucking a bruise on the older mans throat and Pete straight up whines his name. It's better than music better than any other sound in the whole ridiculous world.

"Oh look a way to shut you up."  
Pete shoves at his chest. It's half hearted at best, more of a pat than a push and Patrick just smiles back.

There's a crackle of a spark between the pair of them and it's like 10 years ago and 5 minutes ago all merged into one. How did he ever think they could stop this forever?

He's pulling down Pete's boxers before his brain can even begin to second guess itself, and Pete let's him, helps him even, like he can't wait to be out of his clothes for Patrick and fuck, if that isn't really hot.

He pushes up the t shirt that Patrick lent him last night and kisses down his torso sucking bruises into his hips; remember this, please, remember me.

His head is a cacophony of silence when he bites a bruise into Pete's thigh and is rewarded with a desperate moan. If he could bottle that and turn it into a song he would.

When he finally gets his mouth on his cock the begging starts.

"Please Patrick. So good, always so good, please, oh god, don't stop, need it need it, please..."

It shouldn't get him as fast as it does but Pete's desperate keening as he hollows his cheeks has him hard before he's even been touched. He works a hand into the boxers he fucking slept in because he needs some form of relief, as Pete curls a hand into his hair pulling him further onto his cock.

"Fuck... please more, need..." 

He's incoherent, and messy, and about a centimetre from setting off an unwanted gag reflex and Patrick has never been more turned on.

It doesn't take long for Pete to cum down his throat, although somehow it takes even less time for Patrick to cum in his pants like the horny teenager he most definitely isn't anymore. 

Pete looks thourougly fucked out as he reaches for Patrick and pulls him in for a kiss, tongue dipping in to taste himself. He smirks when he feels the wet patch on the front of Patrick's boxers.

"I'm sorry I didn't realise we were still teenagers."

Patrick rolls his eyes and goes back to kissing him because, well, because he wants to and he doesn't have the energy to deny himself again.

They end up staying there for another day they shower and Pete curls up against him. Patrick is out of clothes to lend him but naked Pete is completely fine by him.


End file.
